Deana's diary
by Xylar
Summary: Do you remember the girl that left Vault 101, several years before your main character? No? Well, look it up. At any rate, this is her story. It's in diary form, as the title obviously suggests.
1. Ch1 Megaton

Diary entry: Part I

Deana's departure

Remember that girl that supposedly broke out of Vault 101 a few years before the game's main character starts his/her adventure? Well, I got to thinking that was a very interesting and as of yet unexplored story just waiting to be told, so I thought I'd take a shot at it.

This is her story.

My name is Deana. Until just recently I was a resident of Vault 101. I was born there, I lived there and I was told I was going to die there. This is my diary. I decided to keep one to record my findings of the outside world. Why? Because someone needs to get back into that Vault and show them that the world, while harsh and relentlessly unforgiving, is still inhabitable. We can still make it work. The settlement I'm in recording this at proves that.

First entry, by Deana.

Subject: Megaton city.

Megaton. It's built around a dormant, but still operational atomic explosive device. Why they decided to do that is something I'll probably never really know. They're actually worshipping the damn thing. There's a fool priest standing in that irradiated water all day long praising that bomb and the amazing power it harnesses. I snuck out last night and took a look at the thing. It's not really that complicated. Few bombs really are anymore. Just a matter of crosswiring the conductor cables and bypassing the lockout mechanism. Piece of cake. Anyone with more then just a passing knowledge of explosives could deactivate it. It's dormant now and from what I saw, it won't ever detonate on it's own, but a small fusion pulse charge should do the trick to set it off. Frightening, considering how easy it would be to get my hands on one of those. Like I said, bombs aren't exactly rocket science. Decided not to mess with it one way or the other in the end. Don't want to get mired in local politics.

The town itself isn't that bad, actually. It's got a working water processor, although I have noticed several leaks in the pipes around town. Talked to the guy in charge about it and he gave me some nonsense about not having the time to fix it, because the plant needs his constant attention. I proposed to tell him the exact location of each leak and warned him that failing to attend to them would result in the processor failing sooner rather then later, no matter how much 'attention' he spent on it. He gave me the same gruff answer. Fool.

Then there's a shop run by a rather unique individual. She appears to suffer from some form of extreme optimism disorder. She seems completely unable to recognize any form of threat or danger at face value. To her everything is always rainbows and sunshine. Other then this, she's actually a very gifted scientist and repairman. She also knows more then your everyday man about medicine, but I wouldn't call her a doctor. She says she's working on a project called the 'Wasteland Survival Guide', a book that aims to help people survive the dangers and constant threats of the outside world. From the notes she allowed me to look at and the ideas she proposed, I get the distinct impression it's going to be comprehensive and undoubtedly very useful. She didn't hesitate to try and recruit me for said project, but I declined for now. I asked her to reinforce my jumpsuit and left it at her store.

The local sherrif is a guy called Lucas Simms. He appears capable of keeping the peace around town. He's very direct and no nonsense, but he doesn't appear to be corrupt in any way. Our Overseer could learn a thing or two from him.

Then there's the Brass Lantern. A local diner/bar, owned by the Stahl siblings. Jenny and Andy appear friendly enough, but their brother Leo obviously has an addiction. I could even tell you what drugs he's addicted to and I haven't even talked to him, but that hardly matters. It's not my affair.

And lastly there's Moriarty's Saloon. If I had to put anyone in charge of this place, it'd be a square tie between Colin Moriarty and Sherrif Simms. The town couldn't function properly with out either one. He's a shameless, greedy loanshark but he's also very shrewd. He knows the town needs him to get by. Without his resources, I doubt this town would last the year. He's the guy you want to go to if you need any information about anything. If you can pay.

Deana's personal note: Megaton is definitely an interesting start to my journey. I managed to stock up here and plan to move along shortly. My next move is to explore the burnt out ruins of Springvale and see if anything useful comes up. With any luck, I'll be able to score enough materials to fund my travels further east. The capital is bound to prove interesting for my research and likely going to be an invaluable source of proof that the world is not the inhospitable ruined wasteland we were told it was. The Overseer will have a lot to answer for when I get back.

PS: I bumped into a interesting subroutine on the Overseer's PA, when I left the Vault. It would appear all Vault PA's are connected through some sort of hidden subroutine. I doubt even the Overseer knows about it. What purpose would this serve? I didn't have enough time crack his computer completely, however, so I had to download what information I had into my Pipboy. I'll need a terminal with a large memory capacity and several other materials to create a replicator attachment if I want to find out more about this.


	2. Ch2 Springvale and raiders

Diary entry: Part II

Navigating the wasteland

My name is Deana. Until just recently I was a resident of Vault 101. I was born there, I lived there and I was told I was going to die there. This is my diary. I decided to keep one to record my findings of the outside world. Why? Because someone needs to get back into that Vault and show them that the world, while harsh and relentlessly unforgiving, is still inhabitable. We can still make it work.

Second entry, by Deana

Subject(s): Springvale, raiders

Springvale. Not much left of it. Most of its houses were levelled when the bombs fells. The only one left standing was locked. Even if I could have picked the lock, I wouldn't have. Getting greeted by a shotgun to my temple is not exactly my idea of hospitality. But surprisingly, there were still some valuables left in town. Mostly stuffed in mailboxes, for some odd reason. Managed to scrape by just enough materials to make a few crude explosives. Not nearly powerful enough to kill anyone, but strong enough to cause severe injuries. The school is partially intact and after observing the main points of entry from a safe distance, I gathered that it has become the base of a local band of raiders. Waited till nighttime to plant some of my explosives around one of their less patrolled routes.

Sure enough, one of those moron raiders triggered my live mine. Blew his leg clean off. He screamed for an hour straight before he finally passed out. Either his fellows didn't hear him, or they just don't care. When I was sure it was safe, I dragged his body to one of the burnt down houses where I set up 'camp' temporarily. Thought this'd be a good time to get some information and do some research. Patched his leg up just enough to stop it from killing him.

Initial interrogation proved unsuccessful. All he had to say was how I was going to regret putting him through this and the things he'd do to me when he buddies came. I suppose I could've told him that if someone was going to look for him, they would've done so by now, but decided not to. His rants amuse me somewhat, to be honest.

Second attempt yielded some better results. My guess is lack of proper medical attention, dehydration and starvation combined with the realization that he was on his own loosened his lips.

Here's what I got on them:

Raiders. They appear to have no leader or hierarchy to speak of. Whoever is the meanest, baddest, ugliest one of them, gets to call the shots. Until he (inevitably, it seems) gets replaced by way of proverbial knife in the back. This makes their raids terribly ineffective, random and executed in complete chaos. They relish in the killing, torturing and eating of their victims, preying on anyone weaker then themselves. Mostly unfortunate wasteland settlers and caravan supplies. From what I gather from my friend here, they're stationed most everywhere throughout the states, in much the same fashion as their little hideout here in Springvale. Without any connections to their 'brethren' elsewhere, each clan is independent.

Their goals are few and simple.

One: Live to see another day, by any means necessary.

Two: Cause as much misery and chaos (they refer to this as 'fun') as possible.

Note of interest: Bolt head here (yes, that is his real name) claimed his group was digging their way into Vault 101. He recognized my Pip-Boy and said that pretty soon all my friends in that Vault were going to be entertaining his. From all the things he said to me, I found this the most amusing. Unfortunately, he had the audacity to perish due to fatigue before I could question him further on how they were planning to blow their way through walls designed to withstand nuclear blasts.

Deana's personal note: Springvale proved to be a big disappointment in the field of loot to salvage. I managed to find enough food and ammo supplies to last 2, maybe 3 days. The raiders made it impossible to check out the most interesting building in town. I plan to continue trekking east, rather then returning to Megaton. I should be able to make it to the Super Duper Mart with these supplies. No doubt it's infested with raiders, same as here, but this time I'm going to be prepared for them.

PS: No significant updates on the PA subroutines. I did find a conductor in a condition good enough to transmit the date on my Pip-Boy to any functional terminal. Useless on it's own, unless I would own the terminal or the terminal in question has access to the same subroutines. But it's a step in the right direction. I wonder what the secret of the Vaults is?


End file.
